


Kit Bags and Library Books

by orlandongbloom



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bagginshield Modern AU, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Nerd!Bilbo, Rugby Player!Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlandongbloom/pseuds/orlandongbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin (all star rugby player, most loved guy in the school and absolutely fucking beautiful), probably wouldn't have even looked at Bilbo (shy, dorky new kid in town) twice if he hadn't literally ran into him, but sometimes the most unexpected circumstances can lead to the most interesting journeys</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is all thanks to yanna (@mqrtinfreeman) tweeting about varsity!bagginshield, but knowing absolutely nothing about varsity anything led to it being changed to rugby. no prizes for guessing where i'm from. anyway this is my first fic so please don't be too mean, and any feedback would be great! updates should be fairly regular, and tags will be changed as it goes along

Thorin was skinny. Not skinny compared to normal people, but skinny for his height, and especially for a rugby player. This is what brought him to the wide, leafy street on the outskirts of Highgate: headphones in, music full volume, jogging a very roundabout way home from the gym in an attempt to bulk up before the new season. Head down, mind definitely elsewhere; it would have been more of a surprise if he hadn’t bumped into the person walking the opposite way up the path. As it was, he probably wouldn’t have noticed anything had happened if it wasn’t for the heavy pile of books landing on his feet. Pulling his headphones out, he was all set to berate the other for not looking where he was going, until he realised that he could be accused of the same crime. And the man in front of him was just so… cute? He was hardly even a man, closer to being Thorins age, or possibly younger. What was he thinking? He was Thorin Oakenshield, star of the Highgate School rugby team, one of the most popular people he knew, and definitely not someone who found fluffy blonde hair and dimples cute.

As he snapped back to reality, he realised he’d been staring. The man in front of him was blushing, actually fucking BLUSHING. Did people do that in real life? Thorin thought it only happened in bad 80’s films, but as it turned out he’d learnt a lot in the past thirty seconds. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. Here, let me help.” he managed to stammer , bending down to pick up one of the books. Looking at the front cover, he could hardly even read the title, dreading to think what it was like inside. The shorter man beamed, and leant down to take the book of Thorin. It couldn’t really feel electric when your hand touched someone elses could it? Turns out Thorin knew jack shit about anything. Straightening up, he found himself staring down at a mass of straw coloured curls. Thorin was tall, but this guy was so short they must have looked almost comical stood there. Smiling shyly, he passed him the last book and reached down for his headphones. “Again, I’m so sorry. Maybe next time I’ll actually try looking where I’m going.” he laughed, staring down at the floor. The younger (maybe? probably) man giggled. An actual, genuine giggle, and it was possibly the most adorable thing Thorin had ever heard. “No, no, it was as much my fault as yours.” the kid said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Reading while walking perhaps wasn’t the best idea.” The two almost men grinned at each other, and an unfamiliar feeling twisted in Thorin’s gut. Turning his music up, he waved at the other guy and turned for home.

Later, standing in the shower, the cold water pouring over his face and body, eyes closed, he found himself thinking of dimples and giggles, blonde curls and dorky glasses, and before he could stop it a smile spread over his face. Catching himself, he shook his wet hair and turned off the spray, as if by simply ignoring the subject aggressively enough he could completely forget about earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm already getting bored of writing slow build and want to get onto the cute hand holding bits, so if anyone has any requests or suggestions then feel free to leave a comment! anyway here you go, have thorin acting like a teenage girl and bilbo unwittingly being adorable

School wasn't exactly Thorin's favourite place in the world, and to be honest he didn't really care. How could anything else matter anyway when he had rugby? Every spare moment out of lessons was spent on the field, chucking a ball around, or in the gym in a desperate attempt to match his muscles to his speed and skill. So when Monday morning rolled around again (much faster than it should have done), it would be fair to say he wasn't in the best mood. Missing his alarm, he pulled on his uniform and ran down the stairs, not even having time to brush his hair. Thorin arrived as the final bell for registration rang, and was still making his way to his form room a good ten minutes later. Headphones in (as usual), glaring at the floor (as usual), he didn't even see the person in front of him (again) until they were both lay on the floor, shocked and winded but otherwise ok. Dragging himself to his feet, his mind finally clicked into gear and he recognised the now rather dishevelled looking guy brushing dust off his jacket. "You!" Thorin gasped, and the other boy laughed at his look of confusion. "Seems like we're making a habit of this" Dimples grinned, as Thorin turned an unattractive shade of red, "My name's Bilbo by the way, so next time it happens you'll at least know who you're knocking over." He did that thing where he pushed his glasses up his face and crinkled his nose, and Thorin's insides melted a little. Unexpectedly, he stuck his hand out in Bilbo's direction and grunted "Thorin. Sorry, and sorry in advance for when I probably trample you again, and sorry for last time it happened." Bilbo chuckled, and took the offered hand in a surprisingly firm grip. 

Not wanting to end the conversation there, Thorin desperately tried to think of something else to say. Despite being so popular, conversation wasn't necessarily his strong point, with people normally being drawn more to his face than his frosty, almost surly demeanour. "You don't seem like the sort of person to be late for lessons.", he finally managed. Bilbo looked sheepish. "Well, you see, erm, it's my first day here and I, well, I don't really know where I'm going", he blurted out. Feeling more cheerful than he had all morning, Thorin turned his music off properly, grinned (an proper, eye to eye, face splitting grin), and turned to face the shorter guy. "Finally, something I can help you with. If I show you to your lesson, will you forget all the times I've knocked you over, and forgive all the times in the future that it'll probably happen again?"

Walking down the now deserted corridors, Thorin felt like a teenager again. Seen as though he was still a teenager, this shouldn't have been surprising, but Thorin wasn't one to feel nervous around people, to choke over his words, to blush whenever he made eye contact with someone. Sure, he had with his last crush in year 10, but he was a child then, not a nearly adult (hopefully) leaving for university in less than a year. Guaranteed, he wasn't the kind of guy who went in for small talk and casual friendships, but he wasn't shy. Thorin Oakenshield, shy? He wasn't shy, he just chose not to be outgoing. Unfortunately this just seemed to make him even more popular, as if making Thorin Oakenshield spend time with people who weren't his few close friends was the hottest game in school. Party invites flooded his phone every weekend, and he could go out with a different girl every night if he wanted to. No, he definitely wasn't shy. Reserved maybe, but not shy. So why was this kid with the dorky glasses and unruly blonde curls making his tongue feel like it had swollen to three times it size and couldn't move even if it had anything to say?

Glancing to the side when he thought Thorin wasn't looking, Bilbo admired the view. Maybe he was dreaming, or perhaps suffering from concussion after falling out of bed this morning, but here he was, first day at a new school and friends (?) with possibly the most beautiful human being he'd ever set his eyes on. His shoulder length black hair was pulled back in a messy bun, held with an elastic band and showing off his perfectly defined jaw and cheekbones. Dark stubble (more than Bilbo had ever grown in his entire life) peppered his face and neck, standing out against the pale skin. But the first thing that Bilbo had noticed about him, even before they'd collided in the street, were his eyes. Impossibly blue but with flecks of grey and green, they were the sort of colour you could lose yourself in for hours, and he felt as if he was about to drown in them. Hurriedly averting his gaze as Thorin glanced over at him, Bilbo felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realised they were stood outside his classroom. Thanking the other student, he reached for the door handle but, before he could open it and and go in, a voice and hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Hey, I was thinking, er, well, seen as though you're new here and all, maybe I could, er, maybe we could hang out tonight? You know, I could show you the sights and stuff, if, er, only if you wanted to of course."


	3. Chapter 3

‘Hanging out’ was kind of ambiguous. Even Thorin hadn’t really know what he’d meant when he asked it, but Bilbo’s dazzling smile had shooed any regrets out of his mind before they could even enter. In this case, it turned out to mean walking across the Heath as the sun set, a mix of oranges, reds and purples setting the sky on fire. It was chilly; the start of September after a not very hot summer. When Thorin saw Bilbo all wrapped up in a slightly too big blue duffle coat and a stripy scarf, shivering slightly, he knew he was fucked. Well and truly fucked, whether he liked it or not.

Parliament Hill was one of Thorins favourite places, a place he liked to go to be alone and to think. It was like the whole of London was spread out beneath you: the buildings looking more like childrens toys than high rise blocks, the people barely even visible as more than unidentifiable blobs. Up here it felt as if the world was yours to do what you pleased with, as if you were the only person that existed. Time seemed to stand still, and reality became an illusion created by someone else far far away. It wasn’t the sort of place you shared with people, but here he was, sharing it with a boy he hardly knew as the darkness drew in around them. They talked for what seemed like hours about anything and everything: themselves, each other, their favourite books (a mutual love for Tolkien but a not so mutual opinion on whether elves were quite as great as everyone thought they were), sport, world politics, the latest marvel movie. For someone who disliked school so strongly Thorin was surprisingly smart, and for someone so small and unassuming Bilbo knew a lot about rugby. Ok maybe he’d seen Thorin’s picture on the school noticeboard and decided to read up on it but that was a secret definitely best kept to himself.

It had dropped even colder, and Bilbo looked in serious risk of turning the same colour as his coat. 100% out of concern for his friend (no feelings here, everyone move along now), he reached his arm across the back of the bench and pulled the shivering lump of person and not enough layers of clothes in against his side. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when Bilbo didn’t pull away, Thorin tried not to look as if he’d just conquered the world. He obviously didn’t do that great a job, as Bilbo wriggled round in his arms and laughed, before before brushing the messy black hair away from Thorins shoulder so he could settle his head on it. They sat there in comfortable silence until the darkness became so complete they couldn’t even see their own feet. Unwillingly, Thorin decided maybe it was time to move before one of them lost a hand to frostbite. “Bill?”, he whispered against the blond curls tickling his cheek. Bill? Jesus, did they have pet names for each other already? Oh god, they were going to be one of those couples. All they’d done was snuggled and now they were one of those couples. Snuggled? Thorin hated himself. What’d happened to him? Shaking his head as if that would get rid of all the non-manly thoughts he was having, he was brought back to reality by the body next to him stretching, a hand almost hitting him in the face as it tried to brush its owners hair out of their eyes. Suddenly acutely aware of all his body parts and not knowing what to do with them, Thorin sat there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Thankfully he felt a hand take his, and was dragged upwards as Bilbo tugged on his arm. “Come on, lets go get coffee to warm up”. Thorin laughed. “It’s half nine on a Tuesday night, what kind of coffee shop’ll be open now?”. Running down the path, Bilbo either didn’t hear him or just carried on regardless. He turned so he was looking at Thorin, his cheeks flushed and a grin practically splitting his face in half, and in that moment he knew he’d do anything the man in front of him asked.

As he’d said there were no coffee shops open anywhere, but, as usual, Thorin’s parents were out, and he didn’t quite want tonight to end yet. Was it presumptive to ask someone home on the first date? Wait, had this been a date? Internally freaking out inside but managing to stay chill on the outside, Thorin decided to keep quiet. It was only then, by now miles away from the heath and *in public*, that he realised they were still holding hands.

 


End file.
